


In exchange for Sous-Chef services

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV), Overcooked (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Cannibalism, Chef Hannibal Lecter, Crack and Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Don’t copy to another site, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, M/M, Morally Grey Will Graham, Overcooked - Videogame, Revised Version, Season/Series 01, aesthetic included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Hannibal owes Will an explanation about the flesh used in their kitchen.For the Reel Hannibal, inspired by “Overcooked” (videogame)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39
Collections: Reel Hannibal 2020





	In exchange for Sous-Chef services

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Fhime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan) for having believed in this plot at all, contrary to me, and [Another_lost_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_lost_one) for having beta read this work, which will probably be included in a book I’m planning to publish ❀

It stood to reason that their confrontation happened in the kitchen.

It was the place where their acquaintance had assumed shape and substance, where their shared experiences had turned into fond memories, and their compatibility into proper affinity. Will could find solace in its familiarity, and Hannibal ease in its well-supplied equipment. Almost convenient.

“I remember when Jack asked me to assist you to rescue our kingdom,” Will said, running his dry palm on the cold marble counter. “You called it a  _ joined culinary effort_. Must have felt good to have the man himself defer to your expertise for such an important mission.”

Hannibal remained on the threshold, silent and unmoving. Far from the knives for the moment, Will noticed.

“Could have paired yourself with whoever you pleased, your starred colleague Du Maurier or your apprentice Bloom, that cheese diviner of yours for all that mattered, even the three of them at once if you wanted,” Will argued.

Hannibal looked mildly pained at the suggestion, but let him continue.

“Instead, you specifically asked for me, a notoriously exclusive cook that never worked in a brigade before that moment, of all people.”

Hannibal kept his tone low. “Bedelia might have been a viable option, had she not so adamantly refused any involvement in the task, but neither Franklyn nor Alana would have met my requirements.”

“Didn’t have the stomach for it, did they,” Will bitterly inferred.

Hannibal minutely tilted his head. “Nor the inclination.”

Will acknowledged the point. “Unlike me,” he whispered.

It had felt natural for Will to work with Hannibal, cooking and serving a careful selection of elaborate orders in a variety of unfavourable settings. Hannibal had guided him through a unique journey of refined ingredients and exotic flavours, careful preparations and flawless coordination around the stoves.

Will was told that they provided an exquisite performance for the eyes, as well as the mouth, when they eventually learned to dance around each other in the open kitchens that Hannibal insisted on choosing. An utter delight, dinner and a show for their famished customers, except for the sporadic pedestrians that walked in the way without any regard for their work.

It had been good to practice with different layouts of preparation areas, serving windows and stations for food stocks arranged in increasingly weirder manners, before the both of them had to deal with the monster that threatened the peaceful meals in their well-fed realm.

Will had enjoyed the smooth collaboration, even considered to invite Hannibal in his own kitchen when the Great Hungry Dragon had been defeated, and then the content bliss he had timidly cultivated slipped away when he found out what Hannibal was using as main ingredient in their dishes.

Will could vividly remember the ominous notes in the margins of his recipes book, fingers wrapped around it in silent understanding. He had reconsidered each lingering scowl that Hannibal had reserved for their most loathsome clientele.

“You didn’t need a sous-chef, you just wanted to have some fun,” Will said, eyes clouded by irritation. “I’m sure it was incredibly boring to chop and fry human sweetbreads without being able to tell anyone.”

Hannibal smirked. “I’ve heard no complaints on my _ ris de veau aux morilles_.”

“Except perhaps those of the person you killed to acquire the meat.”

Hannibal nodded in agreement. “Touché.” He paused, let the tense silence linger for a second longer, then approached Will some more. “Let us say there were inevitable sacrifices to offer in the name of saving the kingdom, but the Great Hungry Dragon has been sated, and I doubt Jack would mind about the collateral blood that has been shed.”

Will thought about the burgers they griddled, the tacos they assembled, the ground beef he had turned into delicious meatballs with his own hands.

“Collateral, you say. Don’t you mean in the name of your personal pleasure, though? I’m fairly certain we could have solved the problem without resorting to cannibalism.”

Hannibal delved further into the kitchen, surrounded himself with ovens and cutting boards, closing the distance between them. “We could have. I didn’t want to.”

Strangely enough, Will didn’t feel intimidated, although he was positive that Hannibal had been curing human flesh long before their acquaintance, and therefore knew exactly how to dispose of his corpse if he so desired.

Will was certain that Hannibal had occasionally thought about cooking him.

“You could have kept murdering for grocery undisturbed for the rest of your life, no one would have noticed that the taste wasn’t quite  _ right_, but you let me see, probably hoped that I would,” Will said, eyebrows wrinkled in disbelief. He refrained from asking the reason behind his choice, suspected in fact to know the answer already.

In the long term, it felt lonely to cook by yourself.

There was an elegant knife block filled with sharp blades on the counter, and Will suspected it would be a matter of seconds to grab the closest and stab him, but Hannibal reached for his hand instead. His eyes remained lowered on their touching extremities.

“They say it’s always to the kitchen that our friends best like to come, to hear the heartbeat of the house, take comfort in its hum,” he said, words hushered like a difficult confession. “Perhaps the feeling isn’t mutual, but you are my friend, and I wanted to share that comfort with you.”

Hannibal fondled his palm with careful, warm fingers, and Will let himself enjoy the feeling. There was something calming about their mingled breaths and quiet intimacy.

The disappointment and sense of betrayal seemed irrelevant at the moment, in the face of their–

Will frowned, Hannibal’s words echoing in his mind.

In an instant, his hand left the cradle of Hannibal’s fingers and wrapped itself tightly around Hannibal’s wrist, while his other hand found the nearest knife to bring at his throat.

“Perhaps I didn’t hear right,” he said, eyes bright in defiance. “I sure didn’t waste all that time shouting and stumbling over you in the kitchen for some  _ mutual friendship_.”

Those pedestrians had indeed been quite the nuisance.

**Author's Note:**

> My partner and I are pro at this game, so it stands to reason that Hannibal and Will are formidable at it too.  
> I wasn’t kidding about the book. Let me know if you’re interested, or if you spot errors I should fix.  
> [Find me elsewhere.](http://cinnamaldeide.carrd.co) [Post on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Cinnamaldeide/status/1292788467320139776?s=19).


End file.
